“‘Because she’s ha’nted,’ says one; ‘Jim an’ me both encounters this yere banshee an’ it’s got fire eyes.  Also, itse’f and pony is constructed of bloo flames.  You can gamble!  I don’t want none of it in mine; an’ that’s whatever!’

“Any gent can see that these yooths is mighty scared.  Enright elicits their yarn only after pourin’ about a quart of nosepaint into ’em.

“It looks like on two several o’casions that a handful of cattle gets run over a steep bluff from the mesa above.  The fall is some sixty feet in the cl’ar, an’ when them devoted cattle strikes the bottom it’s plenty easy to guess they’re sech no longer, an’ thar’s nothin’ left of ‘em but beef.  These beef drives happens each time in the night; an’ the cattle must have been stampeded complete to make the trip.  Cattle, that a-way, ain’t goin’ to go chargin’ over a high bluff none onless their reason is onhinged.  No, the coyotes an’ the mountain lions don’t do it; they never chases cattle, holdin’ ’em in fear an’ tremblin.’  These mountain lions prounces down on colts like a mink on a settin’ hen, but never calves or cattle.

“It’s after the second beef killin’ when the two riders allows they’ll do some night herdin’ themse’fs an’ see if they solves these pheenomenons that’s cuttin’ into the Bar-B-8.

“‘An’ it’s mebby second drink time after midnight,’ gasps the cow-puncher who’s relatin’ the adventures, ‘an’ me an’ Jim is experimentin’ along the aige of the mesa, when of a suddent thar comes two steers, heads down, tails up, locoed absoloote they be; an’ flashin’ about in the r’ar of ’em rides this flamin’ cow-sperit on its flamin’ cayouse.  Shore! he heads ’em over the cliff; I hears ’em hit the bottom of the canyon jest as I falls off my bronco in a fit.  As soon as ever I comes to an’ can scramble into that Texas saddle ag’in, me an’ Jim hits the high places in the scenery, in a fervid way, an’ yere we-all be!  An’ you hear me, gents, I don’t go back to that Bar-B-8 camp no more.  I ain’t ridin’ herd on apparitions; an’ whenever ghosts takes to romancin’ about in the cow business, that lets me out.’

“‘I reckons,’ says Enright, wrinklin’ up his brows, ’I’ll take a look into this racket myse’f.’

“‘An’ if you-all don’t mind none, Enright,’ says Peets, ’I’ll get my chips in with yours.  Thar’s been no one shot for a month in either Red Dog or Wolfville an’ I’m reedic’lous free of patients.  An’ if the boys’ll promise to hold themse’fs an’ their guns in abeyance for a week or so, an’ not go framin’ up excooses for my presence abrupt, I figgers that a few days idlin’ about the ranges, an’ mebby a riot or two roundin’ up this cow-demon, will expand me an’ do me good.’

“‘You’re lookin’ for trouble, Doc,’ says Colonel Sterett, kind o’ laughin’ at Peets.  ’You reminds me of a onhappy sport I encounters long ago in Looeyville.’

“‘An’ wherein does this Bloo Grass party resemble me?’ asks Peets.